For the others, there will be stealth involved, but once they infiltrate, it’s going to get crazy.
Kynan’s powers and influence are beyond imagination. Bebe mentioned quite casually that he had sprung her from prison and had her record expunged. While this was mind-boggling, I was rendered speechless when he pulled up on speed dial the director of the FBI, and after only a five-minute conversation, he had an official sanction by said agency allowing us to go in and rescue Ladd. This is important because without such government backing, any loss of life that comes out of this would be heavily repudiated by the Salvadorian government, and retaliation in some form would be forthcoming. That might still happen, but with the United States government supporting our mission, it will eventually be smoothed over. They’re not going to deny us our right to rescue an American citizen held against his will, but they’ll be miffed they weren’t included on the mission.
While Kynan brought an array of weapons, explosives, and other high-tech gadgetry, he also secured a military helicopter. One of his men, Benji, is a pilot. The chopper is partly for overhead surveillance and distraction, but also to give the appearance our forces are larger and better equipped than Mejia’s. If we can get his men to lay down their guns without a fight, that will be best for all.
I’m driving the rented Range Rover we picked up at the airport, and my palms are slick against the wheel as I stop outside the gate. I roll down the window, press a button on a call box staked into the ground, and listen to it crackle a moment before a man’s voice—Mejia’s—comes across. “Ms. Hathaway… I see you made it.”
He must be watching on the security feed as I smile up into the camera mounted on the edge of the fence post. “Just as I promised. Now send Ladd out, and I’ll come in.”
“You don’t make the rules,” Mejia admonishes. “I do.”
The box goes silent before I can respond. No static hissing, no more talking. Turned completely off and I have no clue what that means.
I get out of the Rover and in the glow of the headlights, I move closer to the fence to check it out. It’s manually operated, so someone is going to have to come down from the house. If there’s a God, it will be just Mejia and Ladd, but somehow I doubt that.
Glancing at my watch, I know Kynan’s team is in place. They had wanted me to wear an earpiece so I could be part of the communications, but I knew I’d be getting physically close to Mejia, and I don’t want him to have any clue that I’ve come with support. So I’m going in deaf to what the rest of the team will be doing once they enter.
While we have a carefully orchestrated plan, anyone who knows anything about these types of ops knows you must have contingency plans. Something will inevitably happen that you didn’t see coming, and you have to adjust on the fly. Having everyone able to communicate with one another is essential, but I’ll be in the dark during much of the mission.
Movement up at the house no more than thirty yards away catches my eye—the mansion’s front door is opening. Mejia steps out with two armed guards, but no Ladd. The door remains open, but no one else comes out, and I watch warily as Mejia heads my way. Interestingly enough, the two guards stay on the porch, which says they don’t view me as a threat.
When Mejia enters the radius of my headlights, he’s wearing a smug smile. He knew I’d show up, and here I am.
He stops about five feet from the fence separating us, and I’m an equal distance away on the other side. “Where’s Ladd?” I demand.
“I told you, you don’t make the rules,” Mejia replies easily, stepping up to the gate latch. It has an electronic panel on it, and he enters a series of numbers prompting a lock to open. As he rolls the gate slowly to the side, I take a step back.
Not because I think I’m in imminent harm’s way, but because I want him to think I’m skittish. I want him to think I’m docile and not here to fight.
But man, am I here to fight.
“Come,” he says, motioning with his hand.
I don’t move a muscle. “We agreed you would take me in exchange for Ladd.”
“No,” he growls in annoyance. “I never agreed to that. You offered it, but I never accepted. I merely gave you my address, and you assumed I’d trade.”
“That’s a shame,” I reply, reaching behind my back and pulling out the gun I’d tucked there. In a two-handed grip, I level it right at his head. “Now, bring Ladd out.”
Mejia’s eyes glitter with malice in the glow of the Range Rover’s lights, and he shakes his head slowly—a denial of my request.
And then I feel something hard press against the back of my head.
The barrel of a gun, and I know one of Mejia’s men was out here in the shadows, ready to intervene if I pulled a gun.
“Put that weapon down before you get hurt,” Mejia orders, and then laughs at himself. “I mean… you’re still going to get hurt, it just won’t be out here.”
I refuse to lower the gun, keeping it trained on Mejia’s face.
“We can play this little game if you want,” Mejia snarls from deep within his chest. “But it delays you finding out what happened to Mr. McDermott.”
Fear jettisons throughout by body, making my bones feel brittle with hopelessness. His tone… it suggests…
I can’t even think about it, but my hand shakes slightly. Mejia and I stare at each other and within his eyes, I see he’s holding something back.
Something he’s dying to tell me but won’t while the gun is on him.
I need Ladd more than I need to put a bullet in Mejia’s brain, and besides that, I’ve got a gun at the base of my own skull that could quickly decide my fate.
I lower my weapon.
“Toss it away,” Mejia orders.
My hesitation costs me a hard jab to the head with the barrel of the gun behind me, but I dare not turn to confront the man. He could have an itchy trigger finger, so I toss my gun to the side.
“Now, if you will join me, Ms. Hathaway,” Mejia says, once again motioning me to walk through the open gate.
I don’t hesitate because Ladd is somewhere on these grounds, and my job right now is to keep Mejia distracted. I take a few steps and glance over my shoulder, but whoever had the gun on me has melted into the shadows. I feel sorry for him, actually, because the area around the fence line is swarming with Jameson agents who will be in the process of breaching as I’m moving toward Mejia.
When I reach him, he doesn’t lead me to the house as I expected but just stands there with a Cheshire grin. I’m annoyed at what must be a cat-and-mouse game that delights him, and which I don’t want to play.
“Where’s Ladd?” I growl. “I want to see him now.”
“You do?” he asks slyly.
“Yes. Now.”
“As the lady wishes.” I get a flash of teeth, his expression almost gleeful, and he pulls his phone out of his breast pocket. With a flick of his finger, he pulls something up on his screen before turning it to show me.
A man, lying on his side on an ivory and blue rug. His back is to the camera, but I recognize the clothes Ladd wore tonight. I recognize his short salt-and-pepper hair and the build of his body.
There’s a pool of blood under him, coming out of a wound in his back, and my heart hammers.